


Unfortunately, They Met

by BoisterousBattlecat



Series: FFVII Rare Pair Week 2020 [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Crack, FFVII Rare Pair Week 2020, First Meetings, Gaia has always been a part of the WH universe here I guess, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fic, horrible people in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22782190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoisterousBattlecat/pseuds/BoisterousBattlecat
Summary: Ultimately, it was a very unlikely chain of coincidences that lead to Fulgrim (son of the distinctly hot Emperor) and Sephiroth (son of the distinctlyunhot Hojo) fucking.
Relationships: Fulgrim (WH40K)/Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII)
Series: FFVII Rare Pair Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636498
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7
Collections: Final Fantasy VII Rare Pair Week





	Unfortunately, They Met

**Author's Note:**

> i refuse to apologize for my madness

Ultimately, it was a very unlikely chain of coincidences that lead to Fulgrim (son of the distinctly hot Emperor) and Sephiroth (son of the distinctly  _ un _ hot Hojo) fucking.

Firstly, Cloud Strife, crossdresser extraordinaire, had gotten himself and his party killed in some underwater plane.  _ Why _ they were there in the first place, Sephiroth attributes to Cloud’s seemingly magical ability to wander off and start breeding chocobos in even the most dire situations. Without the ragtag band of heroes required to properly stop the villain of the story, Sephiroth accomplishes his [mother’s] plan of ramming a meteor into Gaia and becoming a god.

Secondly, when deciding on a direction to steer his vessel, Sephiroth decides on a course, that, twenty thousand years later, would result in him descending upon one particular pleasure world with a highly secretive and surprisingly competent Slaneeshi cult, that, nonetheless, was regularly accused of Slaaneshi heresy for delaying pleasure to ensure the obtainment of more pleasure in the future.

Thirdly, an insignificant servant in an also insignificant (though its masters would kill you if they heard that) market in the Eye of Terror had a pleasant dream with an interesting plot that includes all her favorite fetishes. It’s so pleasant, in fact, that she forgot that she has to be up soon and stays in bed a few minutes too long. Her overseer’s anger so frightens her that her work slipped and she mixes up two boxes.

Fourthly, it just so happens to arrive as a Keeper of Secrets is having a very bad day as Fulgrim’s “bodyguard.” Finding a box of premium cat food instead of the promised wine made from the blood of Imperial Saints is what finally breaks the camel’s back and convinces the Keeper that yes, it  _ would _ be a good idea to email Khorne with the location of Fulgrim’s party planet. It gets caught two seconds after clicking send and is quickly stuffed into a sensory deprivation chamber.

Fifthly, this just so happens to be one of the days when Khorne grows briefly bored of endless slaughter and checks its email inbox. It then briefly wonders if a Keeper of Secrets can be trusted, but then shrugs and decides that anything written in all caps has to be genuine. Khorne sends some daemons. And then some more when it turns out to be real. And then some more. Fulgrim is entertained for a few moments before it quickly grows boring. Eventually he storms off to go on a vacation, ignoring the fact that he has essentially been on vacation for the past ten millennia. The planet’s defense quickly collapses after he leaves and Khornate barbarians trample over its majestic rainforests, not that Fulgrim noticed.

Sixthly, that faintly heretical Slaaneshi cult on the pleasure world has become embroiled in a Slaneesher-than-thou argument with another Slaaneshi cult, especially as they’ve had to take time off decadence to fight the monsters that have begun appearing after a strange meteor crashed into the planet. Things became heated. Doorbells are rung and then ditched, toilet paper plastered over houses, people brutishly and inelegantly murdered. Eventually, someone gets the bright idea of creating a daemonhost as proof of their devotion to the Goddess. This is exactly the opportunity Fulgrim is looking for.

Seventhly, after resolving the dispute between the two cults and cleaning his fabulous hair until his (diminished) senses couldn’t see a trace of blood on it, Fulgrim goes to get some coffee. He sips it and finds it mediocre. This is still highly interesting to him, given how long he has been eating nothing but the finest Slaneesh’s realm has to offer. He gulps the entire scalding cup down in a single swig, delighting in how it hurts his vessel, and then orders a meal with the cash he looted from the cults. There’s quite a lot of empty tables in the cafe (something about mysterious disappearances), but nonetheless Fulgrim takes a seat next to the white-haired shirtless stranger slowly picking apart a pizza with a fork and knife.

Incidentally, Fulgrim is wearing a stylish yet casual black tank top that bares his midriff, jorts, sneakers that cost far too much, artisanal bronze earrings, carefully applied make-up that accents his natural beauty in just the right way, and some hapless psyker that he’s reshaped into a human-sized version of himself. Sephiroth is wearing what he always wears because he is not very creative.

“The Warp around you sings of the curses of a dying world,” Fulgrim slides the chair out and gracefully maneuvers himself into sprawling on it. It is a wooden chair and thus an uncomfortable sprawl, but Fulgrim has never let things like that stop him from being sexy. He throws his ponytail back and smiles. It is just a bit too predatory. “Are you also vacationing?”

Sephiroth stares at Fulgrim, but the latter concealing his true nature is enough for Sephiroth, who has spent the last twenty thousand years on the world’s longest road trip, to not recognize him. “Actually, I am contemptuously observing the meaningless lives of mortals to entertain myself.” In other words, Sephiroth is vacationing.

Fulgrim’s smile widens. It is a bit unsettling. “You still pay attention to them?” Sephiroth glares at him. “My apologies.” He does not really mean this. He never has to anyone but Ferrus since his ascension, and even then it’s only mostly. “I did when I was younger, but then something very complicated that I don't feel like explaining happened and I was illuminated to the truth of the world and also decided to carouse for ten thousand years.”

“I think the conventions of social interaction are for you to introduce yourself first,” Sephiroth says despite the fact that he does not, in fact, know for certain that it’s a rule.

Fulgrim winks and stretches back on the chair in a very Genesis-esque manner. “Fulgrim, the Phoenician, second son of the Emperor, foremost champion of Slaanesh, slayer of Roboute Guilliman, holder of the finest hair in all the universe.” It looks as if any moment sparkles would start surrounding him.

Sephiroth’s face remains stony. What Fulgrim thinks is that it is because Sephiroth is just like that. What is the actual truth is that, tragically, Sephiroth barely has any idea what Fulgrim has been bragging about. “Sephiroth. I am a god.”

“Impressive,” Fulgrim says. It is genuinely meant. He has interacted with a lot of entities that call themselves gods, and their egos are always entertaining. There is a brief lull in the conversation. “Did you kill or try to kill your father?” In Fulgrim’s experience, daddy issues are one of the great constants of the world.

“He probably died when I destroyed the world,” Sephiroth says without admitting that he has no idea who his father is. “But I’ve fantasized about it.”

“Excuse me?” a voice says from behind them. They look over, ready to murder their way out of the cafe, to see the waitress holding Fulgrim’s order. “You two are really cute together,” she says, “you’ve got a real Aesthetic going on.” Fulgrim winks. Sephiroth looks vaguely insulted.

After she sets Fulgrim’s taco on the table and leaves, Fulgrim places an arm on the table and leans closer to Sephiroth. “Fancy going on a date, dear?”

Sephiroth stabs his fork into a pepperoni before bringing it to his mouth and chewing. “It might be amusing,” he says after finishing.

Fulgrim smiles like a shark. “It’d be a shame to not see everything this world has to offer before we destroy it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Edited slightly after publishing because I wrote it in like one day.


End file.
